Pittston Gazette

              / KSTABL1HII KID I HfiO. I VOL. XLVV. fiO. 47 f Oldest Newspaper in the Wyoming Valley. PITTSTON, LUZERNE CO., PA., FRIDAY. JULY 31, 1896. A Weekly local and Family Joiraal. 191.00 PER TEAR » IN AUVANLK __ A liunl, stern raw of men they would seem to have been, but just, so far its they understood justice. They have the reputation of having been good husbands, fathers and masters, but one cannot help thinking of them ad inoro respected than loved. that of iudnlgent contempt. as mere u no 'equality between liiiin and woman, so there can be no respect She is a different being. He must either look up to her as superior to himself, or down upon her as inferior. When a man does the former, he is more or less in love, and love to John Ingerfield is an unknown emotion. H*r beauty, her charm, her social tact! Even while he makes use of them for hi*'own purposes he despises them as the weafKtns of a weak nature Sleep, little pigeon. and fold your wings— ■ Lullaby, most exclusive circles and concerning whom, seeing that they are neither rare nor rich, nor extraordinarily clever uor well born, one wonders "how the devil they got there!" Meeting this man by chance one afternoon, he links his arm in his and invites him home to dinner. If all John Ingerfiokl requires for a wife is a beautiful social machine, surely here he has found his ideal. Anne Singleton, only daughter of that persisteuly unfortunate but most charming of baronets. Sir Harry Singleton—more charming, it is rumored, outside his family circle than within it-r-is a stately, graceful, high bred woman. Her portrait by Reynolds, still to be seen above the carved wainscoting of one of the old city halls, shows a wonderfully handsome and clever face, but at the sante time a wonderfully cold and heartla* one It is the face of a woman half Weary of, half sneering at tho world. One reads in old family letters, whereof the ink is now very faded and the paper very yellow, long criticisms of this portrait The writers complain that if the picture is at all like her, she must have greatly changed since her girlhood, for they remember her then as having a laughing and winsome qxpression. . , They say—they who knew her in after life—that thjft pay liar face caiue back to her inthe end, so that the many who wuupUVued fepeuing their eyes and seeing Eei r bending down over them could never recognize the portrait of the beautiful, sneering lady, even when they wjare told whom it represented. But at the time of John Ingerlield's strange wooing she was the Anne Singleton of Sir Joshua's portrait, and John Ingerfield liked her the better that she was. ableness and quality of the article it? For in this hour me knowledge is born within him that Anne is not his property; that, he and she are fellow hands taking their orders from the same master; that, though it be well for them woman in particular. The voice grows wearily fretfuL Oh, why do they persist when they see it is impossible? What fools they all sra Suddenly he recollects the voice and starts up and stares wildly about him, trying to remember where he is. With a fierce straining of his will be grips the brain that is slipping away from him and holds it As soon as he feels Sure of himself he steals out of the rootn and down the stairs. a space, in case you want to add another name." So the stone remains a little while unfinttied, till the same hand carves thereon a few weeks later, "And of Anne, his wife." Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes; Bleep to the singing of mother bird swinging— Swinging in the neat where her little une lies. One day,rummaging over an old chest, he comes across a colored picture book of Bible stories. He turns the torn pages fondly, remembering the Sunday afternoons of long ago. At one picture, wherein are represented many angels, he pauses, for in one of tho younger angels of the group—one not quite so severe of feature as her sisters — he fancies he can trace resemblance to Anne. He lingers long over it Suddenly there rushes thougli his brain the thought. How good to stoop and kiss the sweet feet of such a woman 1 And, thinking it, he blushes. Away out yonder I see a star— Silweav star with tinkling fust To the soft dew falling I hear if falling— to work together' and help each other, they must not hinder one another. Calling and thinking the night along. They were men to exact the uttermost farthing due to them, yet not without a sense of the thing due from themselves, their own duty and responsibilit—nay, not altogether without their moments of heroism, which is the duty of great men. History relates how a certain Captain Ingerfleld, returning with much treasure from the West Indies— how acquired it is, perhaps, best not to inquire too closely—Is overhauled upon the high seas by a king's frigate. Captain of king's frigate sends polite message to Captain Ingerfleld, requesting him to he so kind as to promptly hand over it certain member of his ship's company, who, by some means or another, has made himself objectionable to king's friends, in order that he (the said objectionable person) may be forthwith hanged from the yartlarm. So soon as they are left alone with the walnuts and wine between them, John Ingerfleld says, thoughtfully crooking a hard nut between his fingers: THE END. to through a moonbeam cornea- Little gold moonbeam with misty wings. All silently creeping, it asks, "Is he sleeping— Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?" As yet John does not understand all thia The idea is new and strange to him. He feels as the child in a fairy story, on suddenly discovering that the trees and flowers he has passed by carelessly a thousand times can think and talk. Once he whispers to her of the labor and the danger, but she answers rimply: "They are my people, too, John. It is my work.'' And he lets her have her way. Coatly Wine. In a recent address by Thomas Morris before the Staffordshire (England) iron and steel works' managers on the remarkable achievements that have been reached in the manufacture of fine wire, the interesting fact was mentioned that the lecturer had been presented by Warrington, the wire manufacturer, with specimens for which some $4.32 per pound were obtained, or more than $8, - 600 per too—drawn wire, largely used in the ooustruction of piano and other musioal and mechanical instruments. Among these specimens also was pinion wire, at a market price of $21.60 per pound, or $48,800 per ton. It took 754 hair springs to weigh an ounce of 487 grains; *7,000,000 of these were required to make a ton, and, taking one to be worth a cent and a half, the value of a ton of these cheap little things ran up to over $400,000. The barbed instrument used by dentists for extracting nerves from teeth was even more expensive, representing some $2,150,000 per ton. A mile length of Na 19 size wire weighed only 91 pounds, and many of the ingots were 12 to 14 hundredweight each, and 60 miles of wire could be obtained from one ingot. Up from the sea there floats the sob Of the waves that are breaking upon the shore, As though they were groaning in anguish and moaning, Bemoaning the ship that shall come no more. "Excellent idea. Delighted to hear it, I'm sure," replies Will, somewhat less interested in the information than in the delicately flavored madeira he is lovingly sipping. "Who's the lady?'' "Will, I'm going to get married." So in thi'ir big, cold mansion, John Ingerfield aud Anne, his wife, sit far apart, strangers to one another, neither desiring to know the other nearer. In the hall he stands listening. The house is very silent He goes to the head of tbo stairs leading to the kitchen and calls softly to the old housekeeper, and she comes up to him, panting grunting as she climbs each step. Keeping some distance from her, he asks in a' whisper where Anne is. The woman answers that she is in the hospital. "Tell her I have been called away suddenly on business," he says, speaking in quick, low tones. ' 'I shall be away for some days. Tell her to leave here and return home immediately. They can do without her here now. Tell her to go back home at once. I will Join her there " About his business he never speaks to her, and she iiover questions him. To compensate for the slight shrinkage of time he is stble to devote to it, he becomes moro strict aud exacting; grows a harsher master to his people, a sterner creditor, a greedier dealer, squeezing the uttermost out of every one, feverish to grow richer, so that he may spend more upon the game that day by day he finds more tiresome and uninteresting. And the ,'led up casks upon his wharfs ®jfc"Pase arid multiply, and on the dirtPHver his ships and barges lie in i voWerigthening lines, and round his greasy caldrons sweating, witchlike creature*. swfcrrrt in ever denser numbers, xtil-Tin# oil and tallow into gold. Until one summer, from its neat in the far east, there flutters westward a foul thing. Hovering over Limehouae suburb, seeing it crowded and unclean, liking its fetid smell, it settles down upon it. So from the soil of human suffering spring the flowers of human love and joy, and from the flowers there fall the seeds of infinite pity for human pain, God shaping all things to his ends. Bat sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings- Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes, ▲m 1 not siuging? See, I am swinging- Swinging the nest where my darling lies. —Euirene Field. "I don't know yet, "Is John Ingerfleld's answer. His friend glances slyly at him over his glass, not sure whether he is expected to be unused or sympathetically helpfuL Anne has a true woman's instinct for nursing, and her strong sense stands her instead of experience. A glance into one or two of the squalid dens where these people live tells her that if her patients are to be saved they must be nursed away from their own homes, and she deUft&iues to convert the large counting house—a long, lofty room, at the opposite end of the wharf to the refinery—into a temporary hospital. JOHN INGERFIM. Thinking of Anne, John's face grows gentler, his hand kinder. Dreaming of him, her heart grows stronger, deeper, fuller. Every available room in the warehouse has been turned into a ward, and the little hospital is open free to all, for John and Anne feel that the whole world are their people The piled up casks are gone—shipped to Woolwich and Gravesend, bundled anywhere out of the way, as though oil and tallow and the gold they can be stirred into were matters of small moment in this world, not to be thought of beside such a thing as the helping of a human brother in sore straight "I want yon to find one for me." Will Cathcart pats down his glass and stares at his host across the table. By JEROME K. JEROME. "Should be delighted to help yon. Jack," he stammers in an alarmed tona " 'Pon my soul I should, bat really don't know a single woman I could recommend ; 'pon my soul I don't." [Copyright, 1896.] CHAPTER L Captain Ingerfield return* polite answer to captain of king's frigutD* that he (Captain Ingerfield) will, with much pleasure, hung any mwrtiber of his ship's company that needs hanging, but that neither the king of England nor any one else on God Almighty's sea is going to do it for him. Captain of king's fixate sends bark word that if objectionable person is not at our*! given up he shall be compelled with much regret to send Captain Ingerfield and his ship to the bottom of the Atlantic. Replies Captain Ingerfield, "That is just what lie will have to do before I give up one of my people," and fights the big frigate— tights it so fiercely that after three hours naptain of king's frigate thinks it will be good to try argument again, and sends therefore a further message, courteously acknowledging Captain Ingerfield's courage and skill, and suggesting that he having done sufficient to vindicate his honor and renown, it would be politic to now hand over the unimportant cause of contention, and so escape with his treasure. He moves toward the door, but stops and faces round again. "Tell her I beg and entreat her not to Btop in this place an hour longer. There is nothing to keep her now. It la all over. There is nothing that cannot be done by any one Tell her she must go home—this very night Tell her if she loves me to leave this place at once." If you take the underground railway to Whiteohapel road (the East stationV and from there take one of the yellow tram cars that start from that point and go down the Commercial road past the George, in front of which stands—or used to stand—a high tiagstaff, at the base of which sits—or used to sit—an elderly female purveyor of pigs' trotters at 8 ha'pence apiece, until you come to where a railway arch crosses the road obliquely, and there get down and turn to the right up a narrow noisy street leading to the river, and then to the right again up a still narrower street, which you may know by its having a public house at one corner (as is in the nature of things) and a marine store dealer's at the other, outside which strangely stiff and unaccommodating garments of gigantic size flutter ghostlike in the wind, you will come to a dingy railed in churchyard, surrounded on all sides by cheerless, many peopled houses. Sail looking little old houses they are, in spite of the tumult of life about their ever open doors. They and the ancient church in their midst seem weary of the ceaseless jangle around them. Perhaps, standing there so many years, listening to the long silence at the dead, the fretful voices of the living sound foolish in their ears. Selecting some seven ot eight of the nost reliable women to assist her, she proceeds to prepare it for its purpose, ledgers might be volnmes of poetry, rillri of lading mere street ballads for all che respect that is shown to them. The older clerks stand staring aghast, feeling that the end of all things is sorely at hand, and that the nniverse is rushing town into space, until, their idleness being detected, they are themselves promptly impressed for the sacrilegious vork and made to assist in the demoliion of their own temple ''You must see a good many. I wish you'd look out for one that you oould recommend." "Certainly I will, my dear Jack," answers the other in a relieved voice; "never thought about 'em in that way before. Dare say I shall come across the very girl to suit you. I'll keep my eyes open and let yon know." All the labor of the day seems light to them, looking forward to the hour when they sit together in John's old shabby dining room above the counting house Yet a looker on might imagine such times dull to them, for they are strangely shy of one another, strangely sparing of words—fearful of opening the flood gates of speech, feeling the pressure of the pent up thought. The woman, a little bewildered by his vehemence, promises, and disappears down the 6taira. He takes his hat cloak from the chair on which he thrown them, and turns onoe more to cross the halL As he does so the door opens and Anne enters. "I shall be obliged to you if yon will," replies John Ingerfield quietly, "and it's your turn, I think, to oblige me, WilL I have obliged yon, if you recollect" He had no feeling of sentiment in the matter himself, and it simplified the ease that she had none either. Ho offered her a plain bargain, and she accepted it. For all he knew or cared, her attitude toward this subject of marriage was the usual one assumed by women. Very young girls had their heads full of romantic ideas. It was better for her aud for him that she had got rid of them. Typhus is the creature's name. At first it lurks there nnnoticed, fattening upon the rich, rank food it finds around it, until, grown too big to longer hide, it boldly shows its hideous head, and the white face of terror runs swiftly through alley and street, crying a» it runs, forces itself into John Ingerfield'a counting house and tells its tale It Wm Befolv. ' 'Onoe upon a time,'' said ex-Congressman Peel of Arkansas at the Metropolitan, ' 'I beard Mr. Lanham of Texas, then a congressman, say to his colleague and friend Colonel Culberson that it would be batter for both of them to retire from political life and return to their homes and make some money from the practice of their profession. " 'You know, Culberson,' said Lanham, 'that $6,000 a year hardly pays the expenses of living in Washington, and as for saving anything, that is impossible. Both of us can make more money than that practicing law.' "'Yes, Lanham,' responded the other, 'I admit the truth of what you say. It's no big money, $5,000 a year, but, Lanham. it comes powerful regular.' " Anne's commands are spoken very weetly and are accompanied by the wee test of smiles, bat they are neverheless commands, and somehow it does lot occur to any one to disobey them. lohn:—stern, masterful, authoritative Tohn, who has never been approached .vith anything more dictatorial than a timid request since ho left Merchant Tailor's school 19 years ago, who wouid lave thought that something had sudlenly gone wrong with the laws of nature if he had been—finds himself hurrying along the street on his way to a lruggist'B shop, slackens his pace an instant to ask himself why and wherefore le is doing bo, recollects that he was 'old to do so and to make haste back, narvels who could have dared to tell lim to do anything and to make haste jack, remembers that it was Anne, is tot quite sure what to think about it, Dut hurries on. "Shall never forget it, my dear Jack," murmurs Will, a little uneasily. "It was uncommonly good of you. Yon saved pie from ruin. Jack—shall think about it to my dying day." He darts back into the shadow, squeezing himself against the walL Anne calls to him laughingly; then, as he does not answer, with a frightened accent: One evening John, throwing ont words, not as a sop to the necessity for talk, but as a bait tocatch Anne's voice, mentions griddlecakes, remembers that his old housekeeper used to be famous for the making of them, and wonders if she has forgotten the art "Ours will be a union founded on common sense," said John Ingerfield. John Ingerfield sits for awhile thinking. Then he mounts his horse and ridea home at. as hard a pace as the condition nf the streets will allow. In the hall he meets Anne going out and stops her. "No need to let it worry yon for so long a period us that," returns John, with the faintest suspicion of a smile playing round his firm month. "The bill falls due at the end of next month. Yon can discharge the debt then, and the matter will be off your mind." "John, John, dear. Was not' that you? Are not you there?" "Let us hope the v experiment will succeed," said Anne Singleton. He holds his breath and crouches still closer into the dark corner, ■"»C! innn, thinking she must have been  in the dim light, passes him and goes up stairs. Then he creeps stealthily to the door, lets himself out and closes it softly behind him. CHAPTER IL "Don't conic too near me," he says quietly. "Typhus fever has broken out at Liinehouse, and they say one can communicate it even without having it oneself. You had better leave London for a few weeks. Go down to your father'a I will come aud fetch you when it is all over." Anne, answering tremulously, as though griddlecakes were a somewhat delicate topic, claims to be a successful amateur of them herself. John, having been given always to understand that the talent for them was exceedingly rare, and one usually hereditary, respectfully doubts Anne's capabilities, deferentially suggests that she is thinking of scones. Anne indignantly repudiates the insinuation, knows quite well the difference between griddlecakes and scones, offers to prove her powers by descending into the kitchen and making some then and there if John will accompany her and find the things for her. John aooepts the challenge, and guiding Anne wtf h one shy, awkward hand, while holding aloft a candle in the other, leads the way. It is past 10 o'clock, and the old housekeeper is in bed At each creaking stair they pause to listen if the noise has awoke her; then, finding all silent, creep forward again, with suppressed laughter, wondering with alarm, half feigned, half real, what the prime, methodical dame would say were she to come down and catch them. "Tell your captain," ghauts bark this Ingerfield, who has discovered there are sweeter things to fight for than even money, "that the Wild Goose has flown the seas with her lieJUy full of treasure before now, and Will, if it be God's pleasure, bo do again, but that master and inan iu her sail together, fight together, and die together." But the experiment does not succeed. The laws of fclod decree that man shall purchase woman; that woman shall give herself to man for other coin than common sense. Common sense is not a legal tender in the marriage mart Men and women who enter therein with only common sense in their purse have no right to complain if on reaching home they find they have concluded an unsatisfactory bargain. Will finds his chair growing uncomfortable under him, while the madeira somehow loses its flavor. He gives a short nervous laugh. After the lapse of a few minutes the old housekeeper plods upstairs delivers John's message. Anne, finding it altogether incomprehensible, subjects the poor dame to severe examination, but fails to elicit anything further. "What is the meaning of it? What 'business' can have compelled John, who for ten weeks has never let the word escape his lips, to leave her like this—without a word, without a kiss!" Then suddenly she remembered the incident of a few moments ago when she had called to him, thinking she saw him and he did not answer, and the whole truth strikes her full in the heart Ik* Word of Hope. "By Jove," he says, "so soon as that? The date had quite slipped my memory." When, by nobler culture, by purer experience, by breathing the air of a higher duty, vitality at length creeps into the soul, the instincts of immortality will wake within us.' The word of hope will speak to us a language no longer strange. We shall feel like the captive bird carried accidentally to its own lands, when, hearing for the first time the burst of kindred song, it beats instinctively the bars of its cage.—James Marti neau. "Fortunate that I reminded you," says John, the smile round his lips deepening.He passes her, giving her a wide berth, and goes up stairs, where he remains for some minutes in conversation with his valet. Then coming down he remounts and rides off again. Peering through the railings on the side nearest the river, you will see beneath the shadow of the soot grimed church's soot grimed porch—that is, if the sun happen, by rare chance, to be high enough and strong enough to cast any shadow at all in that region of gray light—a curiously high and narrow headstone that once was white and straight, not tottering and bent with age as it is now. There is upon this stone a carving in bas relief, as you will see for yourself if you make your way to it through the gateway on the opposite side of the square. It represents, so far as can be made out, for it is much worn by time and dirt, a figure lying on the ground with another figure bending over it, while at a little distance stands a third object. But this last is so indistinct that it might be almost anything, from an angel to a horse. Whereupon king's frigate pounds away more vigorously than ever, and succeeds eventually in carrying out her throat Down goes the Wild Goose, her last chase ended—down she goes with a plunge, spit foremost, with her colors flying, and down with her goes every man left standing on her decks, and at the bottom of the Atlantic they lie to this day, master and man side by side keeping guard upon their treasure. Will fidgets his seat "I'm afraid,- my dear Jack," he says, "I shall have to get you to renew it, just for a month or two. Deuced awkward thing, but I'm remarkably short of money this year. Truth is I can't get what's owing to myself." John Ingerfield, when he asked Anne Singleton to be his wife, felt no more love for her than he felt for any of the other sumptuoas household appointments he was purchasing about the same time, tuid made no pretense of doing so. Nor, had he done so, would she have believed him, for Anne Singleton has learned much in her 22 summers and winters, and knows that love is only a meteor in life's sky and that the true loadstar of thiB world is gold. Anne Singleton has had her romance and buried it deep down in her deep nature, and over its grave, to keep its ghost from rising, has piled the stonas of indifference and contempt, as many a woman has done before and since. Once apon a time Anne Singleton sat dreaming (mt a story. It was a as bat to her, then, it was quite new and very wonderful. It contained all the usual stock material common to such stories. The lad and the lass, the plightsd troth, the richer suitors, the angry parents, the love that was worth braving all the world for. One day into this dream there fell from the l:uid of the waking a letter, a poor, pitiful letter. "You know I love you and only you," it ran. "My heart will always be yours till I die. But my father threat- After a little while Anne goes up into his room. His man is kneeling in the middle of the fioor packing a valise. "Where are you to take it?" she asks. He "makes haste back,"is praised for having been so quick and feels pleased with himself, is sent off again m another direction with instructions Cvhat to say when he gets there. He Ctarts off (he is becoming used to being Drdered about now). Half way there, great alarm seizes him, for on attempting to say over the message to himself to be sure that he has it quite right, he liscovers he has forgotten it He pauses, lervoos and excited, cogitates as to .vhether it will be safe for him to conoct a message of his own, weighs anxiously the chances—supposing that he loes so—of being found out Suddenly, to his intense surprise and relief, every word of what he was told to say comes back to him. and he h astana on, repeating it over and over to himself as he walks, lest it should escape him again. "Down to tho wharf, ma'am," answers the man. "Mr. Ingerfield is going to be there for a day Cx two. " "That's very awkward certainly," replies his friend, "because I am not at all sure that I shall be able to renew it" Will stares at him in some alarm. "But what am I to do if I haven't the money?" Which incident, and it is well aothenticated, goes far to prove that the Ingerfields, hard men and grasping men though they be—men caring more for the getting of money than tar the getting of love—loving more the oold grip of gold than the grip of kith or kin, yet bear buried in their hearts the seeds of a nobler manhood, for which, however, the barren soil of their ambition affords scant nourishment Then Anne sits in the great empty drawing room and takes her turn at thinking. la the Greet Teats. At 9:80 Thursday morning, July 9, will be held the first sessions of the international Christian Endeavor convention in the three large tents — Tent Washington, Tent Endeavor, Tent Williston. Besides the usual opening exercises, addresses of welcome, Secretary Baer's annual report and the presentation of-state henniwty Pi i nid—t Qtaric will deliver his annual address. John Ingerfield finds on his return to Limehouse that the evil has greatly increased during the short time he has been away. Fanned by fear and ignorance, fed by poverty and dirt, the scourge is spreading through the district like a fire. Long smoldering in secret, it has now burst forth at 50 different points at once. Not * street,.-wot a court, but has its "case." Ovar a dozen of John's hands are down with it already. Two more have sunk prostrate beside their work within the last hour. The pjfliic grows Rrotesque. Men and women tear their clothes off, looking to see if they have anywhere upon them a rash or a patch of mottled skin; find that they have, or imagine that they have, and rush screaming half undressed into the street Two men, meeting in a narrow passage, both rush back, too frightened to pass each other. A boy stoops down and scratches his leg—not an action that under ordinary circumstances would excite much surprise in that neighborhood In an instant there is a wild stamixxie from the room, the strong trampling on the weak in their eagerness to escape. She refastens the bonnet strings she has been slowly untying and goes down and oat into the wet street John Ingerfield shrugs his shoulders. "You don't mean, my dear Jack, that you would put me in prison?" She makes her way rapidly to the house of the only doctor resident in the neighborhood—a big, brusque mannered man, who throughout these terrible two "Why not? Other people have to go there who can't pay their debts." They reach the kitchen, thanks more to the suggestions of a friendly cat than to John's acquaintanceship with the geography of his own house, and Anne rakes together the fire and clears the table for her work. What possible use John is to her—what need there was for her stipulating that he should accompany her—Anne might find it difficult if examined to satisfactorily explain. As for his "finding the things" for her, he has not the faintest notion where they are, and possesses no natural aptitude for discovery. Told to find flour he industriously searches for it in the dresser drawers; sent for the rolling pin—the nature and characteristics of rolling pins. being described to him for his guidance—he returns after a prolonged absence with the copper stick. Anne laughs at him, but really it would seem as though she herself were almost as stupid, for not until her hands are covered with flour does it occur to her that she has not taken that preliminary step in all cooking operations of rolling up her sleeves. Will Cathcart's alarm grows to serious proportions. months has been their chief- sthy Bad help. He meets her on her entrance with an embarrassed air that tells its own tale, and at once renders futile his clumsy attempts at acting. How should he know where John is? Who told her John had the fever—-a great, strong, hulking fellow like that? She has been working too hard, and has got fever on the brain. Bhe must go straight back home or she will be having it herself. She is much more likely to take it than John. Anne, waiting till he has finished jerking out sentences, while stamping up and down the room, says gently, taking no notice of hiB denials: "If you will not tell me, I must flml out from some one else, that is alL" Then, her quick eyes noting his momentary hesitation, she lays her little hand on his rough paw, and, with the shamelessnoss of a woman who loves deeply, wheedles everything out of him that he has promised to keep secret And below the carving are the words (already obliterated) that I have used for the title of thts fftofj-. Should ytw ever wander of a Sunday morning within sound of the cracked bell that calls a few habit bound, old fashioned folk to worship within those damp stained walls, and drop into  with the old men who on such days sit, each in his brass buttoned long brown coat upon the low stone coping underneath those broken railings, you might hear this ta\e from them, as I did, more years ago than I care to recollect The John Ingerfield of this story is a man very typical of bis raoe. He hae discovered that the oil and tallow refining business, though not a pleasant one, is an exceedingly lucrative one. These are the good days when George III Is king and London is rapidly becoming a city of bright night Tallow and oil and all materials akin to them are in ever growing request, and young John Ingerfield builds himself a large refining house and warehouse in the growing suburb of Limehouse, which lies between the teeming river and the quiet fields gathtTS many people round about him, puts his strong heart into his work and prospers. 1 , "But our I ''ma" I ' T r JMfM of IH Olympian utaw. Universal jpeaoe during the month of the games was proclaimed by heralds in every part of Hellas, and the slightest breaking of the sacred trace was thought "My dear Will," interrupt* the other, "there are few friends I wduld laid £300 pounds to and make no effort to get it back. Yon certainly are not one of them." And then a few hundred yards farther on there occurs one of the most extraordinary events that have ever happened in that street before or since—John Ingerfield laughs. sacrilege, which deities and men alike were bound to punish. The judges of the games* or "Hellanodicate," ranging from 9 to 12 in number at different times, were elected by the Eleans. All who wished to be judges were required to show not only that they had never committed a crime, public or private, bat that they were stainless in moral character. Not infrequently even men of distinction were excluded by this Severn test daring the golden age of Hel-. lento honor.—G. T. Ferris in St Nicholas."Let us make a bargain," he continues. "Find me a wife, and on the day of my marriage I will send yon back that bill with perhaps a couple of hundred added. If by the end at next month you have not introdooed me to a lady fit to be and willing to be Mia. John Ingerfield, I shall decline to renew it" John Ingerfield of Lavender wharf, after walking two-thirds of Creek lane, muttering to himself, with his eyes on the ground, stops in the middle of the road and laughs, and one small boy, who tells the story to his dying day, sees him and hears him and runs home at the top of his speed with the wonderful news and is conscientiously slapped by his mother for telling lies. But lest you do not choose to go to all this trouble or lest the old men who could tell it you have grown tired of all talk, and are not to be roused ever again into the telling of tales, and you yet •wish fur the story, I will here set it down for you. ens to stop my allowance, and, as you know, I have nothing of my own, except debts. Some would call her handsome, bat how can I think of her beside you? Why was money ever let to came Into the world to corse us?" With many other puzzling questions of a like character, and much severe condemnation of fate and heaven and other parties generally, and much self commiseration. All the days of youth he labora and garners, and lays out again and garners yet again. In early middle age he finds himself a wealthy man. The chief business of life, the getting of money, Is practically done. His enterprise is firmly establish**! and will continue to grow with ever less need of husbandry. It is time for him to think about the secondary business of life, the getting together of a wife and home, for the Ingerfield's have always been good citizens, worthy heads of families, open handed hosts, making a brave show among friends and neighbors. John Ingerfleid refills his own glass and hospitably pushes the bottle toward his guest, who, however contrary to his custom, takes no notiea el it, bat stares hard at his Stfcae bnnklaa All that day Anne works like a heroine, John helping her and occasionally getting in the way. By night she has her little hospital prepared and three beds already up and occupied, and, all now done that can be done, she and John go up stairs to his old rooms above the counting house. But I cannot recount it to you as they told it to me, for to me it was only a tale that I heard and remembered, thinking to tell it again for profit, while to them it was a thing that had been, and the threads of it were interwoven with the woof of their own life. As they talked faces that I did not see passed by among the crowd and turned and looked at them, and voices that I did not hear spoke to them below the clamor of the street, so that through their thin, piping roices there quiver**! the deep music of life and death, and my title must be to theirs but as a gossip's chatter to the story of him whose breast has felt the press of battle. These aro not the days of organized defense against disease. There are kind hearts and willing hands in London town, but tliey an* not yet closely enough banded together to meet a swift foe such as this. There are hospitals and charities galore, but these ait* mostly in the city, maintained by the city fathers for the exclusive benefit of poor citizens and members of the guilds. The few free hospitals are already overcrowded and ill prepared. Squalid outlying Limehouse, belonging to nowhere, cared for by nobody, must fight for itself. A Costly Carpet. "Are you serious?" he says at length. The most expensive carpet in the world is now on the shelves of the Gobelins' factory. It is worth $60,000, and was made daring the years 1869 and 1870. It was ordered for Napoleon III, but was unfinished when the Franco- Pnusian war broke oat When that war was finished, he had no nse for it serious," is the answer. "I want to marry. My wife must be a lady by birth and education. She must be at good family—of family sufficiently good, indeed, to compensate for the refinery. She must be young and beautiful and charming. I am purely a business man. I want a woman capable at conducting the social department at my life. I know of no such lady myself. I appeal to you because you, I know, are intimate with the class among whom she must be sought" Anne Singleton took long to read the; letter. When she had finished it and h;id read it through again, she rose, and crushing it in her hand flung it in the fire with a laugh, and as the flame burned np and died away felt that her life had died with it, not knowing that bruised hearts can heal. She holds out her arms to John, first one and then the other, asking him sweetly if he minds doing it for her. John is very slow and clumsy, but Anne stands very patient Inch by inch he peels the black sleeve from the white round arm. Hundreds of times must he have seen those fair arms, bare to the shoulder, sparkling with jewels, but never before has he seen their wondrous beauty. He longs to clasp them round his neck, yet is fearful lest his trembling fingers, touching them as he performs his tantalizing task, may offend her. He stops her, however, as she is leaving the room. "Don't go in to him now," he says. "He will worry about you. Wait till tomorrow." John ushers her into them with some misgiving, for by contrast with the house at Bloomsbury they are poor and shabby. He places her in the armchair, near the fire, begging her to rest quiet, ind then assists his old housekeeper, whose wits, never of the strongest, have been scared by the day's proceeding, to lay the meal. So while John lies counting endless casks of tallow Anne Bits by his side, tending her last case. Strong natures, as well as weak ones, have other peculiar temptations. As a usual thing, they are too confident of the sottoiency of their own resources So when John Ingerfield comes wrioing and speaks to her no word of love, but only of money, she feels that here at last is a genuine voice that ah« can trust Love of the lesser side of life is still left to her. It will be pleasant to be the wealthy mistress of a fine house, to give great receptions, to exchange the secret poverty of home for display and luxury. These things are offered to her on the very terms she would have suggested herself. Accompanied by love she would have refused them, knowing she could give none in return. Often in his delirium he calls her name, and she takes his thin hand in hers and holds it, and he falls asleep. Each morning the doctor oomea and looks at him, asks a few questions, gives a few commonplace directions, b*t makes no comment It would be idlt his ] attempting to deceive her. John Ingerfield, sitting in his stiff, high backed chair, in his stiffly but solidly furnished dining room, above his counting house, sipping slowly his one glass of port, takes counsel with himself.Anne's eyes follow him as he moves about the room. Perhaps here, where all the real part of his life has been passed, he is more his true self than amid the unfamiliar surroundings of fashion — perhaps this simpler frame shows him to greater advantage—but Anne wonders how it is she has never noticed before that he is a well set, handsome man. Nor, indeed, is he so very old looking. Is it a trick of the dim light, or what? He looks almost young. But why should he not look young, seeing he is only 36, and at 86 a man is in his prima Anne wonders why she has always thought of him as an elderly person.John Ingerfield calls the older men together, and with their help attempts to instill some sense and reason into his terrified people. Standingjon the step of his counting house and addressing as many of them as are not too scared to listen, he tells them of the danger of fear and of the necessity for calmness and courage. •ad too much inclined to look with a feeling akin to contempt on timid and hesitating soul* Oftentimes they are inclined to nae force where force is not of the slightest avaiL Opposition makes them resentful, and even delay makes them fretful Hie grace which they most need is a never failing patience.— Nashville Christian Advocate. "There may be some difficulty in persuading a lady of the required qualifications to accept the situation." says Catht art, with a touch of malice. Anne thanks him and apologizes for having given him so much trouble, and he murmurs some meaningless reply and stands foolishly silent watching her. Anne seems to find one hand sufficient for her cake making, for the other rests VVT ?" the .table—verv near to one of John s, as she would see were not ner eyes so intent upon her work. How the impulse came to him, where he—grave, sober, business man John— learned such story book ways, can never be known, but in one instant he is down on both knees, smothering the floury hand with kisses, and the next moment Anne's arms are round his neck and her lips against his, and the barrier between them is swept away, and the deep waters of their love rush together, John Ingerfield, oil and tallow refiner, of Lavender wharf, Limehouse, comes of a hard headed, hard fisted stock. The first of the race that the eye of record, piercing the deepening mists upon the oentnries behind her, is able to discern with any clearness is a long haired, sea bronzed personage, whom men call variously Inge or Unger. Out of the wild North sea he has coma Record observes him, one of a small, fierce group, standing on the sands of desolate Northumbria, staring landward, his worldly wealth upon his bark. This consists of a two handed battleax, value perhaps some 40 stycas in the currency pf the time. A careful man, with business capabilities, may, however, manipulate a small capital to great advan-' tage. In what would appear, to those accustomed to our slow modem methods, an incredibly short space of time, Inge's two handed battleax has developed into wide lands and many head of oattle, which latter oontinue to multiply with a rapidity beyond the dreams of present day breeders. Inge's descendant* would seem to have inherited the genius at their ancestor, for they pros per and their worldly goods increase. They are a money making race. In all times, out of all things, by all means, they make money. They fight for money, marry for money, live for money, are ready to die for money. What shall she be? the He is rich and can afTord a good article. She must be young and handsome, fit to grace the fine house he will take for her in fashionable Bloomsbury, far from the odor and touch of oil and tallow. She must be well bred, with a gracious, noble manner that will charm his guests and reflect honor and credit upon himself; she must, above all, be of good family, with a genealogical tree sufficiently umbrageous to hide Lavender wharf from the :'yes of society. ' 'I want you to find one who will," says John Ingerfield. The days move slowly through darkened room. Anne watches his Early in the evening Will Cathcart takes leave of his host and departs thoughtful and anxious, and John Ingerfield strolls contemplatively up and down his wharf, for the smell of oil and tallow has grown to he very sweet to him. and it is pleasant to watch the moonbeams shining on the piled up casks. "We must face and fight this thing like men,'' he cries in that deep, din conquering voice that has served the Iugerfields in good stead f»n many a steel swept field, on many a storm struck sea. "There must lie no cowardly selfishness, no faint hearted despair. If we've got to die, we'll die, but please God we'll live. Anyhow, we will stick together and help each other. I mean to stop here with yon and do what I can for you. None of my people shall want" Tha Mil at Wi But a woman finds it one thing not to desire affection and another thing not to The bells of Westminster abbey chime hourly a sweet, simple melody. The words allied to the tune are these: All through thia hour, Lord, be mjr guide, And through Thy power Mo foot shall slide. —Christian Intelligencer. possess it Day Dy day the atmosphere of the fine house in Bloomsbury grows cold and oolder about her heart Guests warm it at times for a few hours, then depart, leaving it chillier than before. Six weeks go by. On the first day of the seventh John takes Will Catbcart's aweptance from it} place in the large safe and lays it in the smaller box beside his desk, devoted to more pressing and immediate business, Two days later Cathcart picks his way across the slimy jard, passes through the counting house and enters his friend's inner sanctum, closing the doer behind him. A portrait of one of John's ancestors hangs over the great mantelpiece—of that sturdy Captain Ingerfield who fought the king's frigate rather than give up one of his people. Anne glances from the dead face to the living and notes the strong likeness between them. Through her half closed eyes she sees the grim old captain hurling back his message of defiance, and his face is the face she saw a few hours ago, saying: "I mean to stop here with you and do what I can for you. None of my people shall want" What else she may or may not be he does not, very much care. She will, of course, he virtuous and moderately pious, as it is fit and proper that women should be. It will also be well that her disposition be gentle and yielding, but that is of minor importance, at all events, so far as he is concerned. The Ingerfield husbands are not the class of men upon whom wives vent their tempers.For her husband she attempts to feel indifferenoe. But living creatures joined together cannot feel indifference for each other. Even two dogs in a leash arc compelled to think of one another. A man »nd wife must love or hate, like or dislike, according as the bond connecting them is drawn tight or allowed to hang ■lack. By mutual desire their chains of wedlock have been fastened as loosely as respect for security will permit, with the happy consequence that her aversion to him does not obtrude itself beyond the limits of politeness. V*r Ifery Man. John Ingerfield ceases, and as the vibrations of his strong tones roll away a sweet voice from beside him rises clear The blood of Jesus was shed for every man, and every man that goes down to eternal ruin because of the neglect of the church will at the judgment bar of God stand as an accuser of the church for the wasted blood at Jesus.—Lutheran.With that kiss they enter a new life where into one may not follow them. One thinks it mast have been a life made strangely beautiful by self forgetfulness, strangely sweet by mutual devotion—a life too ideal perhaps to have remained for long undimmed by the mists of earth. "I have come down to be with you also, iunl to help my husband. I shall take charge of the nursing and tending of your sick, and I hope I shall be of and firm. He wears a jubilant air and slaps the grave John on the back. "I've got her, Jack," he cries. "Ji't been hard work, I can tell you—sounding suspicious old dowagers, bribing confidential servants, fishing far information among friends of the family. By Jove, I shall be able to join the duke's staff as spy in chief to his majesty's entire f.mea after this." Looks for the last time into his eyes. hands grow thinner, his sunken eyes grow bigger, yet remains strangely calm, almost contented. Other Things. Having decided in his mind what she shall be, he proceeds to discuss with himself who she shall be? His social circle is small. Methodically, in thCmght, he makes the entire round of it, mentally scrutinizing every maiden that he knows. Some are charming, some are fair, some are rich, bnt no one of them approaches near to his carefully considered ideal. They who remember them at that time speak of them in hushed tones, as one speaks of visions. It would almost seem as though, from their faces in those days, there shone a radiance, as though in their voices dwelt a tenderness beyond the tenderness of man. Very near the end there oomes an hour when John wakes as from a dream and remembers all things clearly. We pray a great deal—of course none too mooh—perhaps not as mnch as we ought—bat what about recollection, meditation, thanksgiving, praise, adoration?—Christian Standard. John is placing a chair for her at the table, and the light from the candles falls upon him She steals another glance at his face—a strong, stern, handsome face, capable of becoming a noble face. Anne wonders if it has ever looked down tenderly at any one; feels a sudden, fierpe pain at the thought; dismisses the thought as impossible; wonders nevertheless how tenderness would suit it; thinks she would like to see a look of tenderness upon it, simply out of curiosity; wonders if she ever wilL Her part of the contract she faithfully fulfills, for the Singletons also have their code of honor. Her beauty, her tact, her charm, are de voted to his service—to the advance* ment of his position, the furtherance of his ambition. Doors that would otherwise remaiu closed she opens to him. Society that would otherwise pass by with a sneer sits round his table. His wishes and pleasures are hern.-Iifctill tilings she yields him wifely Cluty, seeks to render herself agreeable to him, suffers in silence his occasional caresses. Whatever was implied in (he bargain, that she will perform to the jettej. He looks at her half gratefully, half reproachfully. "Anne, why are yon here?" he asks in a low, labored voice. "Did they not give you ray message?" Vk* Awaklac Time. "What is she like?" aakB John, without stopping his writing. They seem never to rest, never to \?eary. Pay and night, through that little stricken world, they come and go, bearing healing and peace, till at last the plague, like pome gorged beast of prey, shrinks slowly back toward its lair and men raise their heads and breathe. For answer she turns her deep eyes upon him. "Would you have gone &wny and left me here to die?" she questions him, with a faint smile. The awaking time is coming for all souls that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for God has said, "They shall be filled. "—Religious Telescope. ' 'Like! My dear Jack, you'll fall head and ears in love with her the moment you Bee her. A little cold perhaps, bat that will just suit you." In the days when the most saleable and the highest priced article in the markets of Europe was a strong arm and a cool head then each Ingerfield (as Inge, long rooted in Yorkshire soil, had grown to) was a soldier of fortune, and offered his strong arm and his cool head to the highest bidder. They fought for their price, and they took good care that they obtained their prioe, but, the price settled, they foqght well, for they were stanch and true men, according to their lights though these lights may have fwen placed somewhat low down, near the earth- He keeps the subject in his mind and muses on it in the intervals of business. At odd moments he jots down names as they occur to him upon a slip of paper which he pins for the purpose on the inside of the cover of his desk. He ar- She bends her head down nearer to him so that her soft hair falls about his face. "Our lives were one, dear," she whispers to him. ' 'I could not have lived without you. God knew that We be together always." A riw For the Bird*. "Butchered to make a Roman holiday," "Good family?" asks John, signing and folding the letter he has flushed. "80 good that 1 was afraid at first It would be useless thinking of her. put she's a sensible girl, with no ponfonnfied nonsense about hex, and the family are as poor as phurch juice. Iq fact— well, to tell the trpth, we h*W become most excellent friends, piid told me herself frankly that she meant to marry a rich man and didn't much care That rouaed bard anger in indignant meter. Butchered to make a lady's bonnet gay- Sounds that much sweeter? Uttle white heron, with the shoulder plume Which stirs the milliner's remorseless pasrton.One afternoon, returning from a somewhat longer round than usual, John feels a weariness creeping into his limbs, and quickens his step, eager to reach home and rest. Anne, who has been up all the previous night, is asleep, and, not wishing to disturb her, he goes into the dining room and sits down in the easy chair before the fire. The room seems cold. He stirs the logs, but they give out no greater heat. He draws his chair right in front of them and sits leaning over them with liis feet on the hearth and his hands outstretched toward the blaze, yet he still shivers. She roused herself from her reverie as John, with a smile, tells her supper is ready, and they seat themselves opposite each other, an odd air of embarrass* inent pervading, , She kisses him, and laying his head upon her breast softly strokes it as she might a child's, and he puts his weak arms around her. Ton guess not how your finery seals your doom He, 014 his side, likewise performs his part with businesslike conscientiousness' —nay, seeing that the pleuNing of her brings 110 personal gratification to himself, not without generosity. He is ever thoughtful of and deferential to Iter, awarding her at all times an unvarying courteousness that is pone the lt-ss sincere for being studied. Her every expressed want is gratified, her every known distaste respocU-d. Conscious ftf his presence being an oppression to her, be is even careful not to intrude himself upon her oftener than is necessary. At beck of Faahion. The little egret's nuptial plumes are sought ▲bore ail other feathers by Eve's daughter. And hence the heronry with woe is fraught— Pay by day their work grows harder, pay by day the foe grows stronger, fiercer, more all conquering, and day by day, fighting side by side against it, John Ingerfield and Ajine, his wife, draw closer to each other. On the battlefield of life we learn the worth of strength. Anne feels it good, when growing weary, to glance up and find him near her; feels it good, amid the troubled babel round her, to hear the deep, strong music of his voice. "/ imuin Io stop htre with ym." Later on she feels them growing cold about her and lays him gently back upon the bed, looks for the last time into his eyes, then draws the lids down over them. some real use to you. My husband and 1 are so sorry for you in your trouble. J A scene of slaughter Poor, pretty, bridal plumed, nest loyal birds. whom." "That sounds hopeful," remarks the would be bridegroom, with his peculiar dry smile. "When shall I have the pleasure of seeing her?" know you will be brave and patient* We will all do our best and Iks hopeful." At breeding time alone yon grow gregarious. The hunter cornea, and soeneatoosad for words Then followed the days when the chief riches of the world lay tossed for daring hands to grasp upon the bosom of the aea, and the sleeping spirit of the old None rover stirred in their hearts, the Hit of a wild sea song they had never heard kept ringing in their ears, and they built them ships and saihxl for the Spanish main and won much wealth, as was their wont. Later on, when civilization began to lay 4pwn and enforce sterner rules for the game of life, and peaceful methods promised to prove more profitable than violent, the Ingerflelds became traders He turns, half expecting to see ouly the empty air and to wonder at the delirium in his brain. She puts her hand in his and their ey«* meet, and in that moment for the first time in their lives these two see one another. His people ask that they may bury him in the churchyard hard by, so that he may always be among them, and, Anne consenting, they do all things necessary with their own hands, wishful that no unloving labor may be mingled with their work. They lay him close to the porch, where going in and out the church their feet will pass near to him, and one among them who is cunning with the graver's chisel shapes the stone. Grieve e'en the The mothers hoTerla* near their helpless brood Are shot In hundreds, 'tis such easy killing. The plawVeta are plucked out, since they are good fw many a shilling. ' 'I want you to ootue with me tonight to the 'Garden,' " replies the other. "She will be in Lady Heatherington's box, and I will introduce you." Twilight fills the room and deepens into dusk. He wonders listlessly how it it that tiuie seems to be moving with such swift strides. After awhile he hears voices close to him. speaking in a slow, monotonous tone—a voioe curiously familiar to him, though he cannot tell to whom it belongs. He does not turn his head, but sits listening to it drowsily. It is talking about tallow—194 casks of tallow, and they must all stand one inside the other. It cannot be done, the voice complains pathetically. They will not go inside each other. It is no good pushing them. Seel They only roll out "You don't mean that you would put me The young birds starve, whilst festering in white heaps Their displumed parents lie in scores about in prlsoiit" ranges them alphabetically, and when it is as complete as his memory can make it, he goes critically down the list, making a few notes against each. As a result, it becomes clear to him that he must seek among strangers for his wife. 80 that evening John Ingerfield goes to Oovent Garden theater with the blood running a trifle quicker in hia veins, but not much, than would be the case were he going to the docks to purchase tallow—examines covertly the proposed article from the opposite side of the house, and approves her—is introduced to her, and on closer inspection approves Iim- still more—receives an invitation tP visit—visits frequently, and each time j is mnra ooliafM «• raritr. anrrfce- At times he asks himself, somewhat pertinently, what he has gained by marriage—wonders whether this social race was quite the most interesting game ho could have elected to occupy his leisure, wonders whether after all he would not have been happier over his counting house than in these sumptuous, glittering rooms, whefe |ie always seems and fe61g himself to be the uninvited guest. They speak 110 word. There is no opportunity for words. There is work to lDe done, and done quickly, and Anne grasps it with the greed of a woman long hungry for the joy of doing. As John watches her moving swiftly and quietly through the bewildered throng —questioning, comforting, gently compiling—the thought comes to hiui, ought he to allow her to be here, risking her life for liis people; followed by the thonirht. how iH be voincr tit rDrev««*t And John, watching Anne's fair figure moving to and fro among the stricken and the mounting, watching her fair, fluttering hands, busy with their holy work, her deep, soul haunting eyes, changeful with the light and shade of teuderness, listening to her sweet, clear voice, laughing with the joyous, comforting the oomfortlees, gently commanding, softly pleading, finds creeping into his brain strange, new thoughts, concerning women—concerning this one Whan men say at the thought their chill blood WUlTSS doubt them I Male thralls of Mammon do the murderous deed. At tho head he carves in bas-relief the figure of the good Samaritan tending the brother fallen by tho way, and underneath the letters, "In remembrance of John Ingerfield. " He thinks to put a verse of Scripture immediately after, but the Kruff doctor ssn. "Rsttar km and-merchants of grave mien and sober life, Tor their ambition from generation He has a friend or rather, an acquaintance, an old schoolfellow, who has developed into one of those curious social flies that in all ages are to pe met with, buzzing contentedly within the But if the slaves of Mode could feel compassionYoung herona need not starve nor old one* btoal To—follow Fashion. » to generation remains ever the same, their various callings being but means The only feeling that a closer intimacT has created in him for his wife is —Punch. Bnbanika toe Dm CUam.